Catharsis
by Sgt Ranma
Summary: Sequel to Officer Saotome. Two years since the events of OS, Ranma has grown self destructive and weary by his own past and what he has become. His salvation is in rising back to what once passionately stirred his soul, what made him strive to be better, earning his place among new friends and allies. His path lies in hardship to attain... Catharsis.
1. Chapter 1a Prologue

ATTENTION: THIS IS A SEQUEL TO OFFICER SAOTOME, A RANMA/TENCHI XOVER I FINISHED WRITING TWO YEARS AGO. YOU MUST READ THAT FIRST TO UNDERSTAND THIS!

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01a Prologue

April 25th, 20XX  
Okayama, Japan.

The first thing he felt in his hand was a square bottle. Square in shape, rounded edges, a distinct smooth foil wrapper on its body. He took a deep breath and hints of sweet, burnt oak and spicy citrus gently tickled his senses.

Then abruptly, his stomach recoiled.

"Ugh...nooo!"

He sat up and his head bumped into a mat of oily hair and hard skull. He hissed as sharp pangs of agony pierced his temples. He rubbed the bridge of nose and eyes in small, tight circles.

The person he bumped moaned in unconscious protest. He looked over and noticed he was sitting up next to a couch, a faceful of long hair in front of him. He breathed again, this time greeted by a much more pleasant aroma of lavender and chamomile. At the end of his breath was mixed in with a little bit of dried sweat and the lingering traces of alcohol and pheromone.

His eyes adjusted to the girl who was passed out in front of him. He ran a hand through her messy, bright colored hair.

"You waking up with your hand still on the booze, you crazy party animal?"

He heard a door latch close, a distinct click and ring of bells emanating from below the staircase. He looked over to a young girl standing with her arms to her side, a smile poking out from half her face with a side of her cheeks pinched against her teeth.

"No more, Washu. I'm tapped the fuck out."

"I think we tapped out a whole lot," Washu replied, eyebrows raised. She ran a hand through her red, crab leg hair extensions. "My head's killing me. Are you going to try to lick the insides of that whiskey bottle, Ranma?"

Ranma Saotome twitched his nose and immediately squinted his eyes shut. "Hell no," he barked. He looked down at his left hand. It was an empty liter bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue. One of several he'd brought for the weekend. He got up from the floor and nearly stumbled as his knees swayed. "I think I'm still drunk."

"Me too." Washu pointed to the kitchen. "I woke up a few minutes before you did. I have some coffee brewing."

He finally caught his balance and grimaced. Ranma's stomach groaned with all the sloshing cocktails of beer, whiskey, and sake he'd demolished. He looked at his wrist. His Frogman G-Shock said it was a quarter till noon.

Ranma brushed his button up polo shirt off from food crumbs that had littered the floor. Little tidbits of snack foods fell on the girl on the couch and some of the other occupants of the house who had also passed out next to him on the ground. He reached down and brushed away some dry crackers off her teal hair.

Kiyone Makibi grumbled as she dug her face into the couch pillow, oblivious of Ranma's hand going through her hair. She smacked her lips a few times and abruptly snorted and snored, resuming to quiet sleep.

Also sprawled on the couch was a young woman with long purple hair and a pink kimono in white stripes. She was on her back, sleeping with her mouth wide open. Her 13 year old teenage sister was passed out on top of her, drooling on her stomach.

Ranma looked around. The Masaki home was trashed with empty bottles, snack wrappers, and drunk inhabitants. He walked forward, careful not to step on his spiky haired friend Ryoko. His drunk balance took a misstep and he accidentally put a foot down on Mihoshi's stomach, sprawled right next to Ryoko with her face up.

"Oooof!"

"Eeep!" The skin on Ranma's neck stretched back as he frowned with his teeth clenched and mouth open. "I'm sorry Mihoshi!"

The blonde girl whimpered for a moment, still passed out. Her lips tightened as she laid her hands on her stomach and continued to sleep with her body turned to the side her knees tucked closer to her body.

Ranma tiptoed his way across the dining area and into the kitchen. He stopped for a moment to see the only other young man in the house with him, leaning against the wall with a trash bin seated to his left with his arm around it. There was some leftover fun smeared on the inner sides of the trash bag, Ranma pinched his nose shut in disgust as he walked into the kitchen.

He let go of his nose and was greeted to the smell of wonderfully roasted Arabica coffee from the drip pot. Washu had two cups out and poured coffee for the both of them. Ranma saw her bloodshot eyes as he gratefully accepted his warm cup of wake-up juice.

"I think we succeeded in having Tenchi remember his 20th birthday, ne?" Washu said, before sipping on her cup.

"He left a little souvenir for himself in the trash," Ranma said, grinning through his hangover. "I think everyone will remember it." Ranma narrowed his eyes and looked up. "Err, or maybe we won't, depending on how you see it?"

Washu let out a dry chuckle, suppressing herself as pain shot through her head with each silent laugh. "It was priceless how Sasami-chan joined in when her older sister went past the point of wasted. Oh, who knew that little girl could handle her alcohol on her first try?"

Ranma had a finger on his lower lip. "Now, was that Ayeka-wasted when she agreed to shotgun that big can of Asahi with Ryoko and Nobuyuki, or when she mistook me for Tenchi and tried to make out with me?"

"And then seeing Kiyone furiously slurricaned herself over to you two and then get held back by Mihoshi, who just happened to trip and drop her as she plowed forward and planted her lips on you instead?"

"Ho," Ranma covered his mouth and suppressed a laugh himself. He whispered under his hand. "When I caught her I accidentally had a handful of her chest. Ayeka was so drunk that she thought I was Tenchi, groping Mihoshi."

"That was too classic. Kiyone laughed herself to tears at that turn-around." Washu sipped again. "Ryoko probably thought she was being smart by speed feeding Tenchi more alcohol than he could handle. Hence why our little prince is against the wall, a trash bin full of puke next to him."

The two laughed together heartily, the only ones awake in the house amidst the ruins of a drinking party the Masaki house had long looked forward to. Tenchi's coming of age, or legal coming of age anyway.

Ranma walked over to the kitchen doorway to look back into the living room. He saw his girlfriend sleeping peacefully on the couch, one of her arms dangling off the cushion and onto the floor.

"C'mon," Washu said. "Let's go to my lab. We'll let them sleep."

Ranma nodded. He followed her back into the living room and under the Masaki staircase which led to the entrance of her lab. Washu held the door open for him to enter. What was underneath the staircase of a large single family home was now a vast new dimension accessed via portal.

"C'mon, we'll go to our usual lounge," Washu said, snapping her finger and pointing with her thumb to a living room that existed in plain view in stark contrast to the dark hole they were in. As they approached and entered, Ranma looked behind him to see the lab dimension gone and in its place a regular wall, with large sliding windows and views of a serene lake. He'd been here many times, every time made him hold his breath for a moment.

The two of them sat down on barcaloungers, complete with their own mini trays attached for their drinks. They faced each other at an angle, the chairs setup so they could easily see each other while maintaining a full view of this dimensional getaway.

"How you holding up, kid?"

Ranma smacked his lips and drank his coffee. "I'll live. You only live once, right?"

Washu looked at him incredulously. "Yeah, says the guy who gave back 40 milllion dollars in drug money. You sure know how to live large."

"Hey, I got a Ferrari out of it."

"Which you donated to charity."

"I must've been drunk then too. Give me a few hours, I'll be ready for round two."

"I don't think there's going to be one," Washu replied, shaking her head. She snapped her fingers and the coffee carafe from the Masaki kitchen reappeared and poured refills for both of them.

"Thank you." Ranma lifted his cup to her.

"I've seen Ryoko drink. I've seen Katsuhito and Nobuyuki drink. Heck, I've seen your girl, Mihoshi, and Ayeka drink. But I have to say, I've never seen anyway who slams away at the bottle like you do."

"Yeah," he simply replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"I know you had fun. You looked like you were enjoying yourself every bit as everyone else, my dear Ranma." Washu sipped again. "It's just I thought a glimpse of a guy trying to force a little bit of himself out of his mind when I saw you take some of those shots."

Ranma crossed his legs over the other. He peered at her neutrally and drank from his cup.

"Hey, I'm just asking," Washu said, her hands up in the air. "We've talked about it before. You know you can talk to me, Ranma."

"Yeah, well." Ranma looked down into his cup. He saw his reflection in the oily top film of the coffee. "It really didn't come to mind or nothing last night."

"Nah, I'm not saying you were dwelling over it, you know?" Washu smiled softly. "I know it's tough to believe even after all this time, but I AM a mother you know."

"You got a knack for reading faces," Ranma said, still looking at his cup.

"You still getting those nightmares?"

He pursed his lips. "Fuckin A," he whispered, nodding.

"Haven't cut down on drinking on your own, have you?"

"I'm..." Ranma took a sip and nearly dribbled some coffee down his chin. He wiped it with his forearm. "I'm mindful of it."

"And how's it been working around with those around you?"

Ranma looked at her receptively. "You mean Kiyone?"

"I didn't say Kiyone," Washu said, shaking her head. "I mean anyone, your coworkers, your girlfriend, your friends, your parents. You know, people who care about you?"

"Kiyone is...She's a good girl. She tolerates me."

"Tolerate is an awfully loaded word, Ranma."

"Well, Washu. You're just about the only person who I really get to talk with this way."

"You got your partner too, don't forget Jackson."

Ranma shook his head. "He knows I have ghosts and regrets. He knows I like to get... lost a little too much."

Washu listened. A little too much was an understatement, she mentally noted.

"He doesn't understand some of the things that cripple me. That I still hold an unjustified anger in my heart. Kiyone's been great at supporting that part of my life-"

"Yet you can't forget about her. She's still chained to your heart. Or your guilt," Washu spoke softly.

"I don't know why," Ranma said, trying not to bite his lip. "Maybe you can tell me how to forget. You're the only person in years I've opened up to about this stuff."

The corners of Washu's mouth gently curled. "It helps I've got advanced education and training on behavior and psyche."

"And just about everything else," Ranma said, raising a brow at her.

"Yeah, and that too." Washu laid her hands on her lap. "I can't tell you how to let go of Ichino, Ranma. Let alone forget, which I don't think you should do. It's not something anyone should do, really. Life's worth living because we also experience the tragedies to contrast with the triumphs."

"Yeah, Dr. Hakubi. I know what you're saying." Ranma slumped in his seat. "I can just manage things as they come to me. I can handle it."

Washu nodded. "Just looking out for you, my boy." She got up and gently brushed the side of his face affectionately. "I know I told you this before..."

Ranma remained slumped, but smiled as he looked up to her short, standing figure.

"But you're the only person who's sat down and talked with me about the living spirit in thousands of years. I wish I had that with my daughter. Or with the other girls. With Ryoko, maybe that ship will sail back one day. Even with Katsuhito, he's still just a monument to himself. Wise and noble in his own silence and minimalism."

"I'd never would have guessed you'd be my favorite person to talk to here," Ranma replied ruefully. "Despite your little experiments."

Washu sat back down in her seat. "So you got stuck as a girl for a week, everyone thought it was cute."

"At least it was on vacation," he replied.

Washu sipped again and finished her second cup. She set it down. "Kiyone doesn't show it much because she's a tough girl. But she's also the smartest one here. She knows when to ask for help and knows when to be concerned. It took her a lot of guts to ask me herself whether or not I thought you have a problem."

"Hmm." Ranma wasn't stupid. He knew Kiyone was a pragmatic girl. She was honest, no nonsense, and dedicated to discipline. "I'll manage, Washu. She doesn't have to worry."

"Just take it easy, ok?" Washu stood to get up. "Don't let things slip out of your control."

"I've got my shit together," he said.

"Handle your shit," Washu said, smiling. "Ouch. Let's get back to the kitchen and get some food ready. Everyone's hungry."

Ranma stood up, a part of shirt lifted as he got out from the seat revealing a shiny gold badge attached to the belt of his left of his hip. His right hip bulged lightly to reveal a pistol handle sticking out of his pants from an inside-the-waistband holster.

He sighed. "Yeah, I need to eat this hangover away."

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Disclaimer: Ranma and Tenchi are not owned by me. This is a fictional work made purely for recreation. I do not intend to profit or market this work using those trademarks in any way shape or form.

Hello guys, SgtRanma here. It's been a few years, and I hope you enjoyed the prologue to my sequel to Officer Saotome, Catharsis.

This prologue laid rest to concerns to a second epilogue to OS I was supposed to make but got lazy and never got around to. I know TONS of people were displeased with Ranma taking Nabs' money at the end and spending it, and that was actually not my intention to ending it like that as there was always meant to be more. Oh well, I laid that one to rest here.

This prologue takes place months before chapter 1, and is also perhaps one of the only times I will be including any of the Tenchi cast in this new series. Alas... the developments are important and will serve for a Ranma/Tenchi xover oneshot that I have planned.

Catharsis will be a xover of several shows. I will also continue the same serious dramafic element that made me enjoy writing Officer Saotome. Except this time, I pledge to make it even more realistic, much more involved as far as character developments go, and far more action packed without getting bogged down TOO much with technical explanation.

Also I've done away with using "real" dates, something that bit me back in the ass when I started Officer Saotome. The year will be purposefully ambigious, with the caveat that this story takes place in a post 9/11 world.

I've already outlined and laid this out as an 8 part series, plus this prologue and an epilogue. It will be mature in theme, will include some graphic details, and as hopefully another asset to the realm of Ranmafics I hope I can add a dash of realism from my (holy cow, 13 years now!) experience as a real police officer.

This fic will be written slowly, there will be delays, and for all I know I might be approaching my late 40's with this as I was approaching my late 30's with Officer Saotome. But, hey... after browsing through FF net and seeing the lack of quality content as opposed to the early 2000s and 1990s, I think we're due for a return of an epic longfic that I hope I can get you guys to enjoy.

And also an additional apology to all of those I've neglected to respond to with feedback in the past 24 months. That will change.

Please send any feedback or questions to sgtranma gmail dot com. Or PM me via FF net or reviews.

Thank you.

Finished July 27 2012


	2. Chapter 1b Return to Form

ATTENTION: THIS STORY IS A SEQUEL TO "OFFICER SAOTOME", A FIC I COMPLETED TWO YEARS AGO.

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Catharsis

Chapter 01b Return to Form

November 23rd, 20XX.

Club Asia, Shinjuku. Tokyo, Japan.

12:14 AM.

"Your double 151 and Coke."

"Thanks."

The man accepted his drink and reached into the pocket of his ash silk dress shirt, flicking away his black tie. He dropped three 1000 yen notes to the bartender. She reached over with her slender arm, dangling her low-cut top and cleavage. The mirror on the back of the bar showed the back was tied with a single knot to completely reveal her backside between the gaps of the displayed bottles of liquor on their glass shelves.

He brushed his pigtail back as he took a long gulp of his drink, a Cuba Libre with extra lime mixed with a powerhouse shot of Bacardi. His ears perked as he finished swallowing.

"We've got a positive visual on the objective, Ranma. Suspect heading to the top of the club with a briefcase and four escorts."

Ranma turned around from the bar. His seat swiveled to a view of the club, a large multistoried Shinjuku hotspot filled with 20-somethings dancing to a DJ's turntable. His left hand slid to his pants pocket, his index finger clicked a receiver button on his left thigh covered over his gunmetal Hugo Boss slacks.

"Solid copy, Kiyone." His eyes looked over to a teal haired girl on the edge of the dance floor, across the room from where he was sitting and next to the stairs to the upper VIP area. "How close is he being guarded?"

A male voice responded to a subvocal earpiece placed deep inside Ranma's ear canal. "They're trailing in staggered two-by-two cover formation. Point man is armed with a short barrel subgun slung on his weakside under his jacket, the remaining three appear unarmed and most likely carrying concealed on their body. You copy?"

"Solid copy, Jackson." Ranma downed his drink. "You two having fun dancing?"

"He could use a bit more swag," Kiyone replied, her voice coming in clearly through the bone-conducting microphone of her own subvocal earpiece. She looked at Ranma across the club, sitting down in the large wraparound island bar. She absently smoothed out the wrinkles of her dark blue spaghetti strap tank and she brushed her forehead for a bandanna that wasn't there. Her long, slender pale legs complimented the white-denim daisy duke shorts that formed along her toned lower body.

"I'm about 20 centimeters taller than you, I'm trying not to stick out," Jackson grumbled. He ran a hair through his spiky gelled hair.

"Like a sore thumb," Kiyone replied. "They went into the VIP room, Ranma. I see the girls being herded in from the entrance. I'm going to sneak in on their tail."

"Alright." Ranma gulped down the rest of his drink. The attractive bartender who served him his drink immediately came back to him, ignoring the other waiting clubgoers.

"Another, sir?" She winked at him.

Ranma reached into his pocket. "Sure."

She gratefully accepted the generous cash, he was the best tipper in her section of the bar. "Coming right up."

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Kiyone slowly made her way to the outer end of the dance floor, keeping an eye on the beeline of new girls who were being escorted by a couple of men from the front. She looked back at Jackson, Ranma's partner, as he made his way back up the stairs to the table he'd reserved with the the purchase of bottle service. A barely touched 750ml bottle of vodka sat in a large steel bowl with crushed ice.

A hand went on her shoulder as she walked through a crowd, a young clubgoer with a gold chain necklace and exposed chest dress shirt trying to get her attention. She shrugged it off without taking her eyes off the VIP room, and she squeezed past two girls dancing with each other on the floor. Her eyes were scattered and distracted by all the laser lights and strobe flashes that rotated above to the beat of the music, she blended in by moving her hips and flowing to a dance rhythm with her arms raised above and her hair swingly lightly from side to side. A brunette in pigtails with questionably young baby-fat cheeks and cut-off top grabbed Kiyone's torso and grinded up on her briefly as she passed by. The young girl's breasts threatened to spill out of her tight exposed outfit as she was politely pushed out of the way.

Kiyone's low height heels clicked on the polished laminate floor through crushed ice that was spilled from a drink cup of a sloppy drunk dancer before she reached the roped off area to her destination.

She looked at Ranma as he received a fresh drink from the bar. "Take it easy on the drinks there, Captain. You still have a job to do." Her jaw stiffened. "Let's run through it again so we have no mistakes, lay it down for us, Jackson," Kiyone casually spoke as she pressed a transmit button hidden deep in her denim pocket.

Ranma mumbled a curse under his breath, his finger off the transmit switch.

"We've made positive ID on Hiro Miyazake, junior level enforcer for the Koike-gumi, affiliates of main Yamaguchi-gumi clan, the Koda-kai. His four bodyguards are with him, same guys, same level of protection detail. One of them is guarding the VIP door." Jackson pulled out his smartphone and shifted in his seat. "The hidden camera I placed in the room is working perfectly. I see them sitting down with three other men, probably our Koreans. Audio is worthless for specifics until we can get a chance to filter it later. We can hear yelling and screaming if things go bad." The deafening bass and the multiple stadium-sized loudspeakers drowned out most conversation that could be picked up by an open-mic.

"Copy. The package girls on their way in?" Ranma asked.

"Not yet," Kiyone replied. "Let me do my thing."

The teal-haired GP detective caressed her thigh on the velvet rope that closed off the area to the isolated VIP room. Several feet besides her were several other girls surrounding a burly man with a jet black ponytail. He stood with a relaxed air about him, hands folded on top of each other with his glimmering diamond and gold jewelry adorning his fingers. He smiled as he reached over to grab the velvet rope and unhooked it to let the girls through.

He stood idly as the last girl was let in and the door closed behind her into the dark underbelly of the club. Kiyone feigned a wistful sigh and snuck a crinkled smile at the bodyguard as he held the rope.

"Didn't see you come up with the other girls, babe. I've been watching."

Kiyone smirked with a playful shrug. "Do you like what you see?"

He raised a brow. "I like what you did with them hips and those legs as you made your way through the floor."

"Imagine what else I can do," she purred.

"Like what? Before I let you in to play with the big boys, what are you going to do for me?" He crossed his arms, velvet rope still clutched in his right hand.

Kiyone didn't miss a beat. She knew his eyes were all over her as soon as he took his post and noticed her making her way up. She grabbed the glass he kept on a stand next to a bottle of Hennessy and slinked over to his ear.

"I'll do anything you want," she whispered in his ear. She breathed warmly into his ear and lightly bit the end of his earlobe. She sipped the hard drink right after as she looked into his eyes. "And everything your boss gets to see, you get to see."

The guard's heart nearly skipped a beat. He stepped aside without a word, his head already swimming of thoughts beyond the night.

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"She's in. It's out of our hands now," Jackson's voice chirped over the earpiece.

"Doesn't mean I like it."

A female hiss came through. "Shut the fuck up, both of you. Switch channels or leave the building."

Ranma resisted the urge to walk over to Jackson. Instead he pulled out his own smartphone and switched settings to his subvocal communications for a secure line to his partner. Jackson's line beeped twice to signal he was receiving a secured single transmission.

"I don't like this, Jackson."

"So noted, Captain."

"She-she shouldn't be here." Ranma took another slug of his drink. The club was too crowded and the bartenders far too busy to notice one man talking under his breath, cradling his rum.

"Four months we've been on this, man. This isn't the time to get cold feet."

"It should be me in there, not her."

Jackson sighed audibly. "Like you'd be able to charm your way in like a natural-born woman can? Gimme a fuckin' break."

"Shit."

Ranma looked down on his smartphone and tapped a few buttons. The screen showed a live feed of the hidden fiber-optic camera they had planted a few weeks before, anticipating the return of their target. He saw a high resolution wide angle view of the room from the top. Kiyone was seated next to several other girls as the men inside drank and laughed.

He looked at her carefully. She looked so comfortable where she was, legs drawn into her body, her torso curled against the armrest of a large plush sofa. His eyes burned as he saw another man lay his hands on her thighs, engaging her in a conversation he wasn't privy to. She had a drink in her hand, but Ranma couldn't tell if the glass was full or empty as he gulped the rest of his.

"Another round?"

Ranma looked up in surprise from the phone to see the same attractive bartender who'd served him.

"Cool it, I've lost count how many you've had so far," Jackson quietly said over the air.

"Sure, I'll have another," Ranma replied.

The bartender smiled and handed him another drink already made in anticipation, this time the coaster was a napkin instead of cardboard. A number was written in pen, along with a name.

"That one's one the house. Call me sometime, sugar. I like your style."

Ranma lifted his drink to her. "Kanpai." He tried to cover his fake smile with his free hand. He pocketed the napkin, where it was never to be seen again.

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The alley invited a gust of frigid air as Jackson kicked open the service door at the back of the club. He had his pistol drawn, checking both ends to identify a threat. Thankfully crowds of pedestrian walking through the streets at the end of each side kept the night bustling in Shinjuku.

Jackson secured his Glock 29, detaching the tubed aluminum suppressor as instantaneously as he'd cam-locked it in place. The large 10mm pistol melted away under his shirt in a leather holster . To his back was Ranma with a cloth napkin wrapped around his left hand, slowly soaking red. Kiyone was right behind him, pushing him out. She found it difficult to see well despite all the neon-lights of Tokyo, due to her face rapidly bruising around her left eye.

Ranma labored under his breath, his head askew and his balance off. "Kiyone, I-"

Kiyone roared behind him. "Jackson, we need to egress now!"

Jackson started running with his hand firmly grasped onto Ranma's expensive suit sleeve. "We'll slip into the crowd and get back to the car park on foot. No way they'll catch us in this traffic."

Kiyone nearly shoved Ranma to the ground as she helped push him forward. "Not a fucking word from you! You've done enough already."

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November 26th, 20XX.

46th Floor - Japanese National Security Agency - Tokyo, Japan.

1:30 PM.

"Lieutenant Makibi left no uncertainty as to what happened from her side of the story. The video footage supports it as well. Your partner's limited deposition on the matter supports it as well. So tell me, Saotome. What's your fucking excuse?"

Ranma looked at his boss for a moment then lowered his head again. His hands shifted on the wooden armrests of his chair, right in front of the desk.

"You can have a smoke, if you'd like. I'm not so vindictive that I'd change how I'd treat you in this room when we're all friends."

"Thank you, Commander." Ranma pulled out a box of Marlboro Reds from his pocket. He reached over for a large jet lighter his boss used to light his own cigars. It was next to his name plate, which was written in English, "CDR. Takayama."

Ranma began his defense. "I was afraid for Kiyone's life, I made a misjudgement and I-"

Takayama shook his head. "It was an observation and surveillance only operation at that point. Until we let them settle down long enough to start naming names and talking business, you were supposed to just sit there and babysit your team!"

"Well, yes," Ranma stuttered. "But then they started grabbing her and throwing her around-"

"And I quote according to Lieutenant Makibi," Tayakama said, raising a folder full of statements in one hand with a specific piece of paper in the other. It was Kiyone's report.

"While we had confirmed that our targets were in fact armed and their reputation does confirm that they would be willing to use their weapons, it was my firm decision to continue my role as a deep-undercover officer and to continue extracting intelligence regardless of the rough treatment I was given at the time.

Takayama paused to look at Ranma, who shrunk into his seat.

"I did not feel my life was in immediate danger and felt it was not above my stature as either a female or a law enforcement officer to take a few hits and inappropriate sexual advances in respect to the wider scope of the operation's goal. When the leader of the operation, Saotome, Ranma, took it upon his own initiative to disarm the guard outside the door and enter the room, my cover was blown."

"She didn't mention that she got cold cocked with a bottle and nearly got blinded when they realized I was there for her," Ranma said, his voice barely audible.

"Nor did she mention how an expert martial artist like yourself got cut in the hand by some two-bit fucking gangster that didn't even carry a gun. And you know why, Saotome? Because it seems like she's got bigger balls than you do right now and it shows she's a fucking professional even when she's accusing her own boyfriend of professional misconduct," Takayama spat.

To Commander Takayama's side was a man who sat on his desk besides him, dressed in a crisp olive drab suit with his back faced towards Ranma.

"You assholes are going to kill me with lung cancer," the man said aloud.

Ranma ashed his cigarette into an empty bowl on the table, filled with extinguished cigars. "Not as fast as you would've died of bullet-cancer. When did you get back, Chris?"

The man turned around to reveal a coat strapped with colorful ribbons and black, Eagle, Globe, and Anchor insignias pinned to his collars. A set of bright, silver oak clusters adorned each of his shoulders. His nametag read Kurosawa, flawlessly polished and set immaculately on the breast of his USMC Service Alpha uniform.

"A few days ago, Ranma. Can you believe I'm already at the end of my service?"

Ranma frowned. His friend, Lt. Colonel Chris Kurosawa of the United States Marine Corps, was the model example of a military lifer. "You mean the end of your deployment, right?"

"Both. SAD* ran out of uses for me in the Middle-East. An Asian man who speaks Japanese is useless in a part of the world where speaking Arabic and familiarity with Islam reigns king."

"You're a Force Recon warhorse. Surely you can't be that easy to replace."

Takayama chimed in. "Oh he's not, but he is."

Kurosawa nodded, nary a hint of disappointment on his smiling face. "There are plenty of young guys who can run, shoot, and kick ass in this post 9/11 world. Guys who are hungry for the chance, and God willing a lot of them are good help."

"Hmm." Ranma mumbled.

"But I'm sorry to hear how you've been slipping, Saotome." Kurosawa clicked his tongue. "How many fuckin' times did I tell to lay easy on the sauce?"

Takayama shook his head as well. He ran a hand through his graying hair, his suit shifting as he heaved a sigh towards his subordinate. "This isn't the first time you've been caught drinking on the job and frankly I didn't hold a bigger problem than I should have because you've always been so capable. In fact, I feel partially responsible for allowing it to get to this point."

Ranma opened his mouth to speak, but found his throat dry.

This wasn't missed by either of the men. Takayama looked to his old friend, Kurosawa, who was staring intently at Ranma's withdrawn form.

A quiet response finally drew itself from his lips. "This isn't the first time I screwed up."

"First time you've screwed an entire operation from drinking too much. First time you put a colleague in jeopardy who wasn't already in danger. I'd say that's one time too many," Takayama said coldly.

Ranma looked at his shoes. His bangs covered his eyes and shadowed his tightened lips.

#*#*#*#*#*#*#*##*#*#*

Kurosawa and Takayama watched through the blinds of Takayama's windows as Ranma collected things from the desk of his own office.

"The man has some demons. The timing, unfortunately, couldn't be any better," Takayama said.

"You think some time off, he'll be up for it?" Kurosawa asked.

Takayama closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of nose. "Either he is, or he isn't. I've put up with enough of him. I gave him his chance."

"Not his last chance, I hope."

"That's up to him," Takayama said, turning his attention to a locked metal carry case that sat by Kurosawa's foot. "How are things coming along on your end?"

"I spoke to our man again about heading up the program before I left Virginia Beach. He's still unsure of how serious we are, but then again so was I until I saw you and this place."

"Serious as a heart-attack. Call him and talk to him. I want him here as soon as possible. He'll know we're serious when he gets his promotion the second he lands here."

"Too bad you can't pull the same clout for field-grade* officers. How about setting up the rest of the Unit?"

"We got approval for funding from Langley and the Senate Appropriations Committee. Last minute approval on the Hill before Thanksgiving."

Kurosawa smirked. "Leave the politics to you, eh? So how much did we get?"

"Enough to convince the United States that as long as the Axis-of-Evil includes North Korea, we get a blank check. Gotta love those Homeland Security endowments being shared around the world."

"Blank check?"

"Well, not really." Takayama shrugged. "But it's enough advance funding for the next five years, we should easily be self sufficient for as long as the Unit exists."

Kurosawa reached for a cigar from Takayama's humidor at the same time he pulled one out for himself. "So when do we start?"

Takayama lopped the cap for him with a double-guillotine cutter. "Sure, help yourself, why-don't-cha."

"Thank you very fuckin' much."

Takayama pulled up a map on his computer screen, showing the tip of Hokkaido. "It's already almost completely set up. Everything's been bought out and claimed, the perimeter has been scouted like we all suggested. Multiple routes for training. It'll be a good un'."

"Ho ho, I bet it will be." Kurosawa drew a nice thick plume of smoke into his mouth as he lit the tip of his cigar. He let it swirl with his tongue first before his cheeks cupped in and blew it all out in one milky toke. "Nice. Dominican?"

Takayama lit his own and put his feet up on the table. "Davidoff."

*SAD - Special Activities Division of CIA.

*Field-grade officer - Commissioned officers in the military ranking O-4 to O-6.

#*#*#*#*#*#*#*##*#*#*

December 15th, 20XX

Elevation: 2700m - Mt. Fuji, Japan.

6:45 PM

She struggled to keep her hands from shaking long enough to light a portable stove as fierce winds howled outside the tent. As her friend pounded the last stake into the ground to secure their shelter, she managed to get a pilot flame lit and immediately cranked up the valve to warm up an aluminum pot filled with packed snow.

The tent's flap door opened up, positioned smartly away from the wind so that it wouldn't blast into the small refuge. A puffy figure entered, her long black hair barely secured under the collar of her frost covered jacket. She looked at her friend, the glow of a fire emanating near her exposed hands.

"Natsumi, scoot over please."

Tokyo Metropolitan Police Officer Natsumi Tsujimoto turned around to see her partner as she kneeled against the stove. She duck stepped to the side as her best friend and partner Miyuki Kobayakawa rubbed up next to her, shoulder to shoulder.

"We should be snuggling up with our boyfriends watching TV and drinking hot sake," Natsumi grumbled.

"Instead we're here training on the mountain for you," Miyuki said. Her usual, cheery self was out of place considering they were camping on the side of a crevasse on a dark, snowy mountain.

Natsumi giggled with bright, rosy cheeks that came out of nowhere. "And that's why I love ya, partner!" She gave a big wet peck on the side of Miyuki's face.

"Natsumi!"

"Why?" Natsumi teased. "You wish it was Ken instead?"

"No!" Miyuki flushed. Years of this teasing hadn't made her any better at handling it.

"Well isn't he your boyfriend?" Natsumi tilted her head to the side, looking at her from the corner of her eye.

"Ken is Ken." Miyuki crossed her arm and inflated her cheeks.

Natsumi chuckled and started adding some dried pieces of bonito flake and dehydrated meats to the rapidly heating pot.

"I'm just teasing, you, Miyuki." Natsumi stuck a finger into the pot, it was still cold enough to stir with bare hands. "Unless you're still thinking about Ranma~"

The features on Miyuki's face immediately softened and her cheeks went back to normal. "It's not like that."

"Still got a crush on him. Hopeless as ever," Natsumi said with a tsk.

"We haven't seen him in ages. Last I heard he doesn't live in Tokyo."

"True. But I highly doubt you'd do anything anyway if he were to ever just drop in on us out of nowhere," Natsumi quipped.

"That's a pipedream," Miyuki said, sternly. "I doubt we'll ever see him again. Nor do I have a THING for him, like you said."

Natsumi laughed as she lifted the lid off the pot. The mixture was now simmering a little and some of the coloring from the dried add-ons finally made it resemble a broth. She started adding in some bits of frozen potato that were pre-sliced.

"You know, Miyuki. You've trained alongside me the past year, running, jumping, swimming, hiking. You've followed me literally to the top of Mount Fuji. Heck, I say you should join me for SAT selection, next February. But bless your heart, you can't even bring yourself up to face another guy you're clearly heads over heels for."

"I have something going on with Nakajima-kun! You can't say I didn't progress with the guy I like." Miyuki sniffed.

"You're right, you did do that with the guy you like." Natsumi fought hard to hide her grin. "But I bet if Mr. Secret Agent Ranma Saotome came prancing up to you in a white horse and asked you to dinner and said I love you, you wouldn't say no?"

"What, I-"

Miyuki paused and turned her head away from Natsumi, which gave Natsumi the chance to chuckle silently. Miyuki turned her head towards her friend, much to her chagrin, as she saw Natsumi savoring the moment.

"Well, even if I joined the police Special Assault Team I doubt they'd let me do work on the helicopters," Miyuki said, eyes narrowed.

Natsumi laughed incredulously. "I doubt we'd have enough free time working in a SWAT team to do our own maintenance work on a chopper."

#*#*#*#*#*#*#*##*#*#*

January 5th, 20XX

Makibi Residence - Okayama, Japan.

10:05 PM

"Thank you again for the lovely dinner, it was nice."

Ranma nodded as he sat down on the couch with the TV in front of him. Kiyone sat to his left. He cupped a non-alcoholic drink in his right hand, his pinky subconsciously trembling for the real thing.

"Happy birthday, Kiyone. Anything, for you."

The teal haired Galaxy Police detective melted into the couch and rested her head onto Ranma's shoulder. Her day was an easy blessing compared to some of the hectic ones her life was normally accustomed to. Lunch was spent with family at the Masaki shrine, dinner was a private affair between her and her live-in boyfriend. It was the first time she'd had sushi for as long as she could remember without drinking a sip of sake.

Ranma looked on as he flipped through some channels, settling on some late night anime. He drank his cider on the rocks and placed it on the table, he was sick of being denied liquid gratitude.

"Anything?"

"What?" Ranma looked down to see Kiyone staring at the TV with him, oblivious to the programming.

"Anything. You said you'd do anything for me."

"Well, yeah." Ranma sat up.

"What if I told you I had to go away for a while?" Her face was devoid of expression.

"Where to?"

Kiyone tried to lick the inside of her throat. Instead she grabbed Ranma's cup from the table and shook an ice cube into her mouth. She noisily crunched it with her teeth as Ranma looked on.

"It's someplace far. Far enough where you won't be able to see me whenever you want."

"Is it close enough where I can come see you once in awhile?"

Kiyone paused. "It's a galaxy, far, far, away. About 45 million light years from here. Accessible only from a space ship with the kind of technology Earth doesn't have."

Ranma gulped. "What is it?"

Kiyone sat up and turned in her seat. "I want to tell you upfront that this wasn't planned. If anything I've held off on it because I wanted to be with you for the holidays and spend my birthday with you."

Ranma nodded for her to proceed.

"There's no way to sugar coat this, so I'll come out and say it. Galaxy Police selected me for a very high profile assignment to establish police infrastructure on a ravaged planet that is recovering from a recent civil war. My name was chosen out of a list over thousands of others for the honorary responsibility of being a Station Chief at a new outpost."

"What do you get to do there?" Ranma found it difficult to look at her directly.

"The GP has stepped in as peacekeepers and I am their ambassador to a new and civilized world. I'll be in charge of training a new police force from scratch so that it may one day be integrated into the Galaxy Police. I'm being offered the chance to be a plankowner, to make history in a place where they are eager to make new history."

Ranma grimaced and stood up to go to the fridge. Kiyone grabbed him and yanked him back down.

"Fight it."

He obeyed by sitting still.

"This isn't an opportunity that I can just ignore. It's not a request that I can just hand off to the next person I think can handle the job. The responsibility was handed duly to me. You understand this, right? From police officer to police officer?"

Ranma's face was stone. But his eyes showed he understood.

"But at the same time, I owe it to you to tell you honestly that this is something that I also need right now. The timing itself just happened to be coincidental."

"You want to break it off with me?" Ranma spat, impulsively.

Kiyone resisted the urge to give him a compliance choke. She didn't conceal the contempt in her eyes.

"No, I'm not trying to break it off with you. I think you and I both know you have a problem. And that problem won't get better whether I'm here or not."

Ranma stood up in indignation. "I've been good! I didn't have a drink all day, nor did I get drunk this past month. What else do I have to do?" he bellowed.

Much to his surprise, Kiyone sat in her seat. Tears welled in her eyes, as she looked at him with her hand covering her mouth.

"Jesus, Ranma. Are you listening to yourself? Can you hear yourself talking? Tthe things you're saying?"

Almost immediately, Ranma felt defenseless. He'd been ready to shout back at her.

"You're a fucking alcoholic," Kiyone sputtered, choking back sobs. She composed herself before she started. "One day, you didn't drink. One month, you didn't get drunk. What kind of reasoning is that?"

"I'm a master martial artist and I'm a professional. I-I know my limits."

Kiyone softly reached over to his hand, the one that was cut a month earlier. The scar tissue was still fresh. "Is that why this happened?"

"It's a cut, big deal. I've had tons of cuts and bruises-"

"Like this?" Kiyone pulled back her long teal hair to show spots of dark skin from the side of her face that were still healing.

He held his breath and felt a pang of vertigo. He didn't feel his legs give out as he plopped back on the couch, his visage flush with shame.

Kiyone looked at him for a moment. She sadly shook her hand and rubbed the side of her face, replaying this moment as she had in multiple scenarios to prepare. "You need time to sort yourself out, Ranma."

"I need you."

"I'm not Ichino, Ranma."

Ranma's face stiffened for a moment as he looked at her. "What did you say?"

"It's not your fault she died. She was a police officer. She knew the danger and the risks involved. So do I."

"But if I'm not around, what if you get hurt? I won't be there to protect you."

"You can't be there to protect everyone, let alone me, all the time, Ranma." Her index finger caressed the scar along his palm. "This, was your fault." She placed his hand along the side of her face. "This, was also your fault."

Ranma squeezed his eyes hard enough to see stars in the darkness as she let go of his hand.

"But Ichino's death... my career and my dangers and risks, they're not your fault, honey." She wiped her eyes away. "I don't know how to help you anymore, I really don't know how. But it's out of my hands now and I'll be away for at least a year. This time off will be good for both of us."

Ranma looked at her for a minute, silently taking in Kiyone's morose expression."I'm sorry."

"I know you are," Kiyone replied.

"Gotta admit, this would've been a lot easier if I'd been drinking," Ranma said, shaking his head.

Kiyone chuckled. "I know it would've. I leave tomorrow afternoon, after we all have lunch together to say goodbye to the Masaki house."

"How will I be able to reach you when you're gone?"

"You won't. We can send recorded video and text, but live transmissions will be impossible until we set up some infrastructure on that planet. And that might take a year too, maybe sooner. Who knows."

"I'll make sure to send you a Valentine's Card," Ranma said.

He reached over and hugged her tight, her arms wrapping around his neck in response.

"I won't be mad if it comes a little late," Kiyone tittered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

#*#*#*#*#*#*#*##*#*#*

January 7th, 20XX

46th Floor - JNSA HQ - Tokyo, Japan.

11:22 AM

"-And then she said she was going to be gone. For a year at least. I can't tell you specifics on where because I don't know myself. But it's a hell of an opportunity for her, one she can't refuse."

The oldest man in the room looked just as surprised as the youngest. Commander Akira Takayama, head of the Japanese National Security Agency's Maximum Enforcement section, looked over at his deputies. Sergeant Jackson Samamoto looked at his colleague, Lt. Colonel Chris Hideo Kurosawa. Kurosawa looked over at Takayama.

"Well, sorry to hear that, Ranma," Jackson finally spoke up. "I know how much she meant to you."

"It's not like she's gone forever," Kurosawa said. "Is She? Or is this an open invitation for you to get fresh pussy?"

Ranma rolled his eyes. "We didn't break up."

"She dumped you then?" Jackson quipped.

"Fuck you, no," Ranma replied incredulously. "She's just gone for at least a year, like a deployment."

"So she'll be fuckin' other dudes," Kurosawa replied.

"No, Chris!" Ranma looked exasperated. "She just thought I need some time to myself, sort things out."

"And time to yourself, ye shall have," Takayama said, standing up.

Ranma looked at him quizzically. "Sir?"

"Well," Takayama started, licking his lips. "Fate has it where we're not sure what to do with you either anymore, Saotome. JNSA is bringing MaxFor to a close. We're deactivating officially in the next few weeks. We've unofficially deactivated for the past month."

This brought Ranma's brain to a cog-screeching halt. "What do you mean, deactivated? We're getting shut down?"

Jackson shook his head. "No, Cap'n. MaxFor was always intended as a pilot program, as much as we'd like to have it stay open forever it was an experiment from the get-go."

"An experiment?" Ranma frowned. "What about my career? What about my life here?"

Takayama looked at him with raised brows. "What about it? How has your career been lately?"

"Sir!" Ranma clamped his mouth shut and his eyes arched in worry. "I can assure you-"

"Assure me what, Captain? That you're going to stay sober, then drink again in a few months and then maybe this time apologize for getting someone killed?" Takayama swiveled his chair around and turned his back to Ranma.

Ranma couldn't find a retort, as every answer he could come up with in his head sounded like an excuse nonetheless as long as it came out of his mouth.

"You're a troubled young man, Saotome." Takayama clicked his tongue audibly. "It's a shame, because you have the potential to be such a great warrior."

This made Ranma frown. Pride fought back, regardless of wounds old or new. "I am a warrior, sir."

"Not fucking yet, you ain't," Takayama replied, acid on his tongue.

It took a silent moment for it to sink into Ranma's head. "Yet?"

Jackson finally spoke up for his partner. "MaxFor is done. Whether we like it or not, at the end of the month it's history."

"The thing is," Kurosawa continued for Jackson, "Are you willing to prove yourself and make new history?"

The crestfallen Ranma suddenly perked up. He looked at everyone in the room, men he considered best friends. "I don't follow."

Takayama swiveled back to face Ranma, looking like a man who'd caught his quarry. "Whether you're still here in the next few months is entirely up to you. But you've earned the right to at least hear what I'm about to tell you. " Takayama looked at Kurosawa and Jackson, both looked back like children who were dying to keep a secret. "And I know it's gonna kill you for the rest of your life if you miss out on it."

This was not how Ranma expected the morning to go. He sat down on a chair, flanked by his amused friends. "I'm all ears."

Takayama smiled and continued.

"Like Jackson mentioned, from the beginning MaxFor was a pilot program for operating an independent investigative arm of law enforcement that was capable of operating unilaterally across the nation of Japan. After several years of successful service, including a few screw-ups, and the support of the right talent and government backing, the experiment was considered a success by those who were instrumental in approving and creating its existence.

"Since the inception of MaxFor, the scope of the JNSA and its mission has changed in relation to what's happening around the world."

"Like 9/11," Ranma said.

Takayama nodded.

"That's right, 9/11 basically changed the rule book as far as how the rest of the world operates. The mandates of the Japanese National Security Agency are no different. The original mission of MaxFor for public safety is no longer a closed off issue, but one that also needs to be looked at from a wider, international angle.

"In a post 9/11 world the intelligence bureau of the JNSA has been taking a more proactive partnership with CIA, or more accurately it's been the other way around. We're a brand new, baby-Agency in one of the world's financial epicenters. And we have an asshole neighbor that's at the top of America's shit list."

Ranma went through some mental geography. "You mean North Korea?"

"Precisely," Takayama responded. "And in the American war against terror, they rank high enough to draw in billions of dollars of funding with very little to no questioning, a lot of which is wasted with chickenshit incentives and half-assed operations that amount to little more than money changing hands from political extortion."

Ranma was familiar with N. Korean politics in Japan, it was intertwined in many levels of domestic crime.

Takayama continued.

"We've been running a successful domestic operation amongst ourselves and thankfully the results have been good. No doubt your original mega-bust when you first joined us was paramount in establishing ourselves as players in the covert underworld. Now it's time to step up to the next level of the game.

"After MaxFor closes, we'll have its clandestine successor up in place. It'll be ready to go as soon as the right people fill in the ranks. What I'm talking about is a completely contained and self-supporting law enforcement unit that can operate at the highest levels of tactical proficiency. We want operators that can infiltrate with the best spycraft that can be taught. We need warriors who are level headed enough to operate with a police and investigative function on the general public in the interest of national security. And last but not least, we need people who can operate both domestic and foreign."

"Foreign? I don't mean to speak out of line here, Commander." Ranma rubbed his chin, digesting the information he'd been given. "What kind of hairy shit are you talking about?"

"Well that's for you to find out, if you make the cut." Takayama leaned back in his chair, hands resting on the back of his head. "We're calling it the Safety and Standards Bureau."

Jackson sighed in exasperation. "Seeing as we're going forward with the whole secret police and black ops thing, we might as well use two lightning bolts for the unit insignia."

"Ha! The SS. That'd be fucking sick," Kurosawa bellowed. He cleared his throat when everyone looked at him. "In a non-genocidal way, of course."

Takayama had both his palms up in the air. "Hey, as long as they're criminals I don't give a shit."

"So, " Ranma said. He stood up and had his hands in his pockets. "What's this mean for me?"

Kurosawa smiled and handed him a sheet from the desk. It said [DO NOT COPY] in large bold print at the top. "You'll be attending a selection course. Upon passing and subsequent training, you're back in. You'll be the new field agent in charge, the equivalent of your position currently. As long as you don't DOR, you keep your salary and your tenure at the JNSA. Drop-On-Request, get hurt, or get punitively washed out, you're shit outta luck."

"Hopefully you saved for a nice nest egg during your time here," Takayama said.

Ranma shrugged nonchalantly. He had saved up enough to disappear for a while. But that wasn't the point. "Why me? Is Chris or Jackson doing this too?"

Jackson stood up and crossed his arms. ""We're going to be part of the selection cadre, Ranma."

Kurosawa also joined him. "Everyone in this room with the exception of you has gone through an intense selection process in the past, the kind of training designed to wash out everyone but the most loyal and committed volunteers."

"Hey I went through BUD/S*!" Ranma protested.

Kurosawa scoffed. "Yeah, you went through one fuckin' phase! Now granted you're a tough hombre for passing hell week and all that shit. But you ain't a fucking SEAL, are you, motherfucker?"

Ranma shrunk. "No, I'm not Colonel."

"So prove us wrong, Saotome." Takayama gestured for him to sit down again. "Show us that you're not some chickenshit alcoholic with a decent streak for putting away the bad guys. Show us you're a warrior."

Jackson knew Ranma best, he also had the quickest way to pull the strings of his heart. "C'mon, Ranma. You always talked about how you wanted to be the best fighter at this, the greatest warrior of that. You know goddamn well martial arts alone doesn't make you the peace-bringing saint that you fuckers always brag about in the safe confines of your dojos."

Ranma's buttons were pressed just the right sequence. "Hey asshole, I'll still take you on in the dojo."

Jackson restrained himself admirably from grinning. "But how about in the streets?"

This caught Ranma short. He knew what Jackson meant by the "streets". If either were given a rifle and time to stalk each other, he knew in his heart who'd win every time.

"Fuck you guys. Fuck you very much." Ranma sighed. "So what's next for me?"

Takayama chirped. "Glad you asked!" He laid out several manilla folders on the desk. "These are the eligibility lists for every selection program taking place in the JSDF* in the next year. There's also one special list for the upcoming National Police SAT selection. I want you and Jackson to pass out invitations to our secret selection event next month."

"But sir, it's not very secret if we're handing these out in the open to these guys," Ranma said. "Also, how does it work for me if they see me recruiting and also in the selection itself?"

"There won't be a problem with the secrecy part since no one will know, including you, what you're going to be up against. Not to mention we're only extending these invites to qualified applicants, which in itself is a decent accomplishment that the regular laymen would be hard pressed to match."

"What about Jackson? He's coming with me to distribute these too."

"He's not the selection proctor, don't worry. He's going to be more behind the scenes if anything."

"And my, uh, curse?"

Jackson took this moment to hold his breath, something that wasn't missed on Ranma.

Ranma looked at his partner. "What the hell is it, Jackson?"

Takayama answered for him. "Remember awhile back you had to infiltrate that female slavery ring? Well, Jackson was telling me some of the more interesting bits on how you accomplished that."

The color slowly drained from Ranma's face. "You mean my friend who locked me into my curse for that short duration."

"Yep! That's the one," Takayama replied.

Ranma shot daggers at Jackson, who was looking for a way to vanish into thin air.

"Frickin' Washu..." Ranma mumbled under his breath.

"You'll stay as a woman for the duration of selection. I know quite well you're very gifted when it comes to physical prowess, but all this would be a bit of a waste if I didn't give you some sort of challenge." Takayama couldn't contain his delight. "And I hear from your previous encounter at BUD/S that being female was, ahem, particularly troubling for you."

Ranma remembered. Being female made life all sorts of difficult in the strength department.

Takayama continued. "Assuming you pass selection, we need to keep your curse under wraps for the sake of unit cohesion. Trust me, by the time its over your teammates will be a lot more accepting of your condition once you've all seen hell and back."

"Yes, sir," Ranma replied glumly.

Kurosawa gently placed a hand on Ranma's shoulder. "This isn't just a big fuck-you just to fuck you, Ranma. We all think this will do you some good."

"It'll be a chance to cleanse your soul, buddy," Jackson chimed. "It's no secret you have your skeletons. And it's going to kill you eventually and drive away everyone."

"No one here ever had a problem with you drinking here and there, son," Takayama spoke softly. "It''s why you drink, that worries us."

The calm, fatherly voice of his boss was something Ranma knew not to take lightly. It came to him all too exceedingly rare. He looked at everyone in the room and acknowledged them as he scrunched a corner of his mouth.

"So we have an understanding?" Takayama asked.

Ranma picked up one of the folders on the desk and casually flipped through it. A name popped out in front of him. He looked carefully for a few seconds and knew it couldn't be another person. He flipped to the front of the folder. It was for the National Police Special Assault Team.

"We do, Commander. We do." Ranma stood up again and collected all the folders on the desk. "I just noticed, but female candidates are also eligible?"

"There's no guarantees, but imagine if we can find some female operators gifted enough to handle the work of men. They'll be a force to be reckoned with the world over," Takayama said.

*JSDF - Japan Self Defense Force

*BUD/S - Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL Training for the US Navy.

#*#*#*#*#*#*#*##*#*#*

January 12th, 20XX

Bokuto Police Station - Tokyo, Japan

6:20 PM

Cold weather made running easier, Natsumi thought to herself. She gulped in controlled, tempoed breaths as her running shoes hit the pavement in stride.

Right in front of her was her partner, who was imagining the anatomy of her organs as parts of a car. Her heart was the engine, her lungs the intake, every smooth and calculated exhale a cycle of the exhaust in the combustion process.

Miyuki Kobayakawa imagined the cold air as a dense charge for her internal turbo, spooled up by motivation.

"Last 200 meters to the station!" Natsumi yelped. "I'll race you for it!"

Miyuki was already sprinting before Natsumi finished. "You're on!"

The pair charged with feet pounding the icy road. They ran neck-in-neck through the gate, racing towards the garage. The finish line was the garage door to Miyuki's Honda Today patrol car.

Neither looked at each other as they swung their arms in full force to catch that extra bit of momentum. They were so caught up in their competitive spirit that they had both reached the garage and nearly tumbled inside.

The raven haired Miyuki nearly collapsed as she came to a halt next to her car, arriving naturally on the driver's side door. Her partner had done the same, arriving on her side of the car and nearly tripping over her 2-stroke Yamaha RZ, her daily rider.

"Congrats, I'd say that was close enough to be a dead heat."

Both girls gasped for air in surprise as they turned around. Standing by the door was Ranma Saotome and Jackson Samamoto, looking amused as they leaned on opposing garage door rails.

"Well," Natsumi said, huffing between breaths. "If it isn't Starsky and Hutch over here."

Jackson rolled his eyes and smiled. "And if it isn't Thelma and Louise over here, looking like they're about to pass out."

Miyuki tried her best to recover her breath, but she desperately needed to cool down after sprinting with such intensity. The sudden sight of Ranma made her insides feel like carnival. "Could you give me and Natsumi a moment to jog around the station? We need to cool down a bit."

Ranma nodded. "Please, go ahead. We'll be right here.

#*#*#*#*#*#*#*##*#*#*

Jackson and Ranma sat on some stools in the garage as the girls came back in, fully expended of the excess lactic acid in their muscles. Natsumi had a towel around her neck and chugged a liter-sized Pocari Sweat. Miyuki used her towel to gently dab the sweat off her face and neck as she drank the same energy drink but without spilling all over herself as she took composed gulps.

Ranma scratched his nose, impressed by both. "You two good? You look like you're training for a war?"

Natsumi and Miyuki looked at each other, smiles shared while restraining the urge to boast out loud.

"I guess it's something like that, but not quite war," Natsumi said.

Jackson looked at Ranma, then back at the girls. "That so?"

"We've been hearing differently," Ranma said. "Says her in a few weeks you'll be attending the selection course for the Tokushu Butai, no?"

Natsumi stared at him. But she didn't see Miyuki narrowing her eyes at her first.

"What of it, mister?" Natsumi replied.

"We're just curious," Ranma said, ignoring Miyuki's glances. "Why do you want to join the SAT?"

Natsumi sighed and leaned against the wall. "Well, they're the best. They're elite. They get to do all the cool stuff."

Jackson shrugged and crossed his arms. "What, you like being in danger?"

"I'd like to be able to handle it," Natsumi replied. "I remember what it's like to be helpless when you guys were around. I don't like that feeling."

"Yet both of you jumped in out of your league anyway," Ranma said. "Why is that?"

Natsumi opened her mouth to speak. She had no answer.

Miyuki looked at Ranma carefully. She saw the folder in his hands. "We're police officers too, you know."

Ranma smirked. "Oh yeah? Is that so?"

"Yeah, it is," Natsumi replied, creasing her forehead in disapproval.

"So you want to be the best?" Ranma said.

Natsumi nodded. "Yeah."

"You want to be elite?"

"Who doesn't?"

"You want to go out and kick some ass?"

"Hell yeah, I do," Natsumi huffed.

"How'd you like to be untouchable?"

"If you're trying to do a self portrait with words, stop flattering yourself." Natsumi's lip curled to the side.

"Alright then, Tsujimoto, Natsumi-san." Ranma opened up the folder in his hand. He gave her a sheet. "Here's a chance at the crown."

Miyuki looked at the sheet too. Her face was heated from Ranma and Natsumi's verbal spar.

"What's this?" Miyuki and Natsumi asked in tandem.

"It's Tsujimoto's chance at everything she thinks she wants to be. If she's up for it and passes selection, more power to her," Jackson said.

"And what makes you think I'd pass up SAT for this?" Natsumi asked warily

Jackson scratched his nose to keep himself from gloating with his smile. "Because we're also inviting current SAT operators along with everyone else on the eligibility list for SAT selection."

Both Miyuki and Natsumi had their breath taken away. What was higher than joining the SAT?

"And what, we get to work with his Royal Highness over here?" Natsumi jabbed her thumb in Ranma's direction.

Ranma smiled with his mouth slightly ajar before he spoke. "Perhaps. If you got enough heart to make it, Princess."

"I want in," Miyuki blurted.

"Wha-" Natsumi balked. "Miyuki, what are you talking about?"

"I want in," Miyuki said firmly. "I want a chance at selection too."

Jackson looked at her carefully. "Your name wasn't on the eligibility list."

Natsumi jumped in before Miyuki could apply. "She's trained alongside me every step of the way to prep me for SAT selection. I assure you, she can handle whatever I can handle."

Jackson looked at them both then glanced over at Ranma. Ranma looked to his partner for affirmation as much as the other had.

"Alright. You're in," Ranma said.

The Bokuto ladies squealed and jumped in unison as they hugged each other. Ranma scribbled a name down on a sheet in his folder.

"But talk is cheap," Ranma added. "There's a selection before the selection. A physical assessment. You'll report to a JSDF training ground in Nerima where pre-selection testing will begin. Minimum qualifications are a 6.4 kilo run in 28 minutes or under. Twenty dead hang, unassisted pull-ups. And a 3.2 kilo swim."

Jackson smirked. "And it all has to be done in full fatigues and combat boots. But I'm sure you ladies have a set since you were both training for SAT, right?"

Natsumi and Miyuki both whistled. The pull ups were challenging, but not impossible. But running and swimming with boots on?

"That's right, ladies." Ranma pointed to Natsumi's sheet. "It's called the Public Safety Applications Training and Selection course, or PSAT. "

"That's awfully long and arbitrary," Miyuki mumbled.

Ranma looked at her. "What was that?"

"Ah! Nothing, nothing. It was nothing." Miyuki looked away and smoothed her hair.

Jackson cleared his throat and looked at his watch. "Well congrats, you two. We'll see you on the other side, then."

Ranma nodded. "Good luck."

#*#*#*#*#*#*#*##*#*#*

"So what do you think, Natsumi?"

"I take it back. Nakajima's leftovers and you're going after the steak."

"Natsumi!" Miyuki hissed. She sat down on her chair in the Bokuto patrol office. Natsumi's desk was across from hers, but the two were the only ones in the room at the moment.

"What are you getting all riled up about? This is your big chance!"

Miyuki hmphed. "I'm not doing this for him, ok? I'm doing this because you need someone like me to watch your back."

"Yeah, right." Natsumi wagged a conniving finger at her. "You're jumping into a huge pile of trouble going to who-knows-where to do who-knows-what for a guy you've been hot about for years."

Miyuki glanced at her with an innocent look in her eyes. "It's not like that. Besides, you and I both trained to hell and back. How bad can this whole thing be?"

#*#*#*#*#*#*#*##*#*#*

Jackson hummed in the passenger seat as Ranma drove them to their next destination.

"Just couldn't resist, could you?" Jackson asked.

"It's a name I know. I thought it'd be fun to goad her," Ranma replied. He took a drag of his cigarette and tapped the ash out the window.

"Didn't expect Kobayakawa to volunteer out of the blue like that."

"Me neither," Ranma said. He was confused by the sudden request.

"She probably still wants your nuts."

Ranma gave him a dirty look from the corner of his eye. "Don't be silly."

"You think they know what they signed up for?"

"Shit, Jackson. I don't even know what I signed up for."

#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#* #*#*

Disclaimer: Ranma and Tenchi are not owned by me. This is a fictional work made purely for recreation. I do not intend to profit or market this work using those trademarks in any way shape or form.

SgtRanma here, thank you for reading guys. I'm sorry it's been so long that I updated, this update was about, er... 5 months more delayed than I had originally wanted. But better late than never right? It only took 10 freakin' months to publish the real first chapter.

I hope you've enjoyed the read so far, and if not I'd love to know. As always, I welcome flames, criticism, comments, etc. Catharsis won't be everyone's cup of tea because of the subject matter, but I'm hoping there are those of you who are intrigued by the direction this fic is going. If not, I'd like to know what bothers you and what (if any) was the expectation if you'd like to share.

I tried hard to streamline the first half of this chapter by constantly rewriting and condensing the first half. This chapter was much longer originally, not in content but more on the banal exposition. I read back on my old fics and I cannot believe how wordy and uselessly complicated I got. Old habits die hard, but I'll be trying hard to suppress them. I hope the quick pacing of the first half wasn't too jarring, but I really felt it distracted from the main story if I went on another thousand or two words describing a botched surveillance operation. It was more of an incident in the story to get the ball rolling for Ranma and Kiyone's strained relationship, but most importantly to highlight Ranma's personal problems and shortcomings as efficiently as possible.

I'm also trying to get in the habit of clearly defining perspective and POV in my prose. It's not quite where I'd like it, but the only way to get better is writing more, right? Please let me know how I'm doing with this particular bit of the craft.

And yes, that was a Star Wars reference with Kiyone up there.

Please send any feedback or questions to sgtranma gmail dot com. Or PM me via FF net. If you're writing a review and wish for me to respond, I'd love to but unfortunately I can't respond to anonymous reviews so please keep that in mind.

Finished May 20, 2013


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